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This was a mistake. I should have stayed at the damned hotel. “Nah. Never mind. Sorry if I disturbed you.” I turn to go.
“Stefan …”
“It’s cool.” I open his front door and step through it, letting myself out.
I’m by the bed to my truck closing the cap back up when Ryan calls out from behind me, having followed me to the driveway. “Stefan. Wait.”
I turn around and lift an eyebrow, waiting.
He doesn’t seem to know what he wants to say. His lips part, and he searches for the words, but nothing comes out. Then his eyes drift to the opened bed of my truck where all my boxes and bags are. The look on his face changes, and then he turns to me and finds his words at last. “Are you living out of your truck?”
I shrug. “Well, I just might be until I figure a few things out.”
Ryan wrinkles his brow. “What do you mean?”
“I moved out of my parents’ house.”
He bites his lip, then crosses his arms. After a bit, he meets my eyes again. “Your dad?”
I grind my teeth and avert my eyes.
He joins me by the side of the truck and stares at my things a bit longer. “So … you came here to …?”
“Look, I know it’s asking a lot,” I start, “and we sort of just reconnected last night. Well, this morning, more accurately. And we’ve had nothing to do with each other’s lives ever since …”
I shut my eyes and kick myself. The last thing I need to do is dig up all the bad blood between us when I’m trying to ask him for a favor. A big favor.
“I don’t want to put you out or nothing,” I go on, opening my eyes again. “It’d just be for a few days. Only if it’s cool with you. I’ll just keep to myself, get my shit together. I’ll even take the couch.”
A little light returns to Ryan’s eyes, and then he smirks. “Your whiny ass is going to be satisfied sleeping on my couch? Really?”
There’s the Ryan I know. “A couch is a couch,” I answer frankly, straight-faced. “It’s more than I have right now, and—”
And I can’t trust myself on my own. I can’t trust that I won’t just end up beaten-up and drunk by a dumpster again. I need someone around me who gives a shit what happens to me.
I’m just lucky and unlucky enough that the one person who fits that description is Ryan Caulfield.
He looks back at his front door, slaps a hand to the back of his head to scratch something, then finally gives me a nod. “Alright.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Alright?”
“Deal.” He gives me another quick nod. “You can stay here ‘til you get your shit together. I … I have a spare room.”
Spare room. He hesitated. But I neither point it out nor question. I’ll take what I can get. “I appreciate it, Caulfield.”
“Ryan.” The smile he gives me is tightlipped and stiff. “I … I haven’t been called by just my last name since the days I could call you my teammate.”
I nod stiffly. “I won’t be in your way.”
“It’s fine.”
“I’m renovating my buddy Parker’s bathroom. You remember him? From Little League and the Morris football team?”
“Sure, yeah,” he mumbles. “Parker.”
“Anyway, I’ll be there most days. You’ll be …” I gesture at him, the words slow to come. “Counseling. School stuff. Your stuff.”
“Just let me help get your things,” he finally offers, cutting off my rambling. “Is … this all you have?”
“Not too much, I know.”
“No problem. You can keep it all inside. I have room.”
I nod, then give the side of my truck a slap. “When I sold my condo up in Frisco, I just brought my clothes, my truck, and my dick. Got rid of my other stuff.”
“Yeah, at least you didn’t leave your dick behind,” he mutters with half a laugh.
I smirk. He’s making an effort, so I probably should too. “Of course, I needed five boxes alone just to bring that. You should’ve seen the movers. Two of them threw out their backs trying to carry the damned thing.”
Ryan snorts. “I see your ego is healthier than ever.”
“Yep. Ego took a couple boxes as well.” I smirk appreciatively at him. “Anyway, anything else I brought back is trapped up in my parents’ attic.”
He rubs his hands together. “Alrighty. I’ll get whatever you need me to. Just tell me what to grab and I’m on it.”
Always helping me. Always serving. Always wanting to do something for me.
“This one,” I say, patting the tiniest box. “Don’t want you to break your back or nothing.”
He sneers at me. “I haven’t gotten that soft.”
“Oh, I know. You did catch that ball in the parking lot earlier.”
“Palm still stings from that.” He eyes me quickly. “Hey, it’s been a while, alright? Cut me some slack.”
